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Embers

Embers

No matter what I do, I’ll always remember the first time I saw fire dancing in the night air on earth. I was in a garden, and then someone handed me sticks with squishy snacks on the end and said something like “There’s more where that came from”, so I said thanks a lot.

My friend told me later that it was supposed to be a joke and he was making a pun with the word Smore. Apparently that’s an American snack. You can tell it’s American because it’s made out of 150% pure fucking sugar.

Shit, sorry if you’re American.

But I’m digressing. Back to what I was telling you about the way the fire danced in the earth atmosphere, and how it really captured and enthralled me. The red and yellow flickering against the black sky, mixing and melding into a glorious orange as the strands flowed into each other. They really did look like they were dancing with each other. And in that moment the fire looked alive. I had heard this saying that you can see the fire in someone’s eyes, and I always thought it was a weird fucking thinking to say, but I suddenly understood. This constantly shifting mass of colour could represent so much.

Passion. Anger. Happiness. Among others.

You can see the fire in Pyre’s eyes. And in her hands usually too, but that’s besides the point. She wears her emotions on her sleeve and she has no qualms dialing up the fire as the rage burns on. She has shown us passion, no matter how fake it was, in her relationship with Zero. She has shown us anger in her takedown of Sweet Alice. And she’s shown us happiness in her true relationship with Simon.

Like that fire, her soul dances to it’s own beat against the darkest of backdrops.

Later that night, after the party guests had all gone and the Smores had all been eaten, and there were just a few of us left, the host tipped a bucket of water over the fire. First there was a plume of smoke and a loud sizzle, and then nothing except a faint glow. The raging inferno had made way for slow burning embers.

Pyre doesn’t know it yet but I’m that bucket of water, standing ready to douse her fighting spirit. Once I take the win, and her fighting spirit is doused, you’ll see her plume of smoke and hear her final sizzle. Her last stand at relevance. And then…?

And then fuck all. She’ll just be the embers in the ashes, feeble and worthless, clinging on to the fire that used to be. Devoid of life. No passion, no anger, no happiness.

Just a pile of fucking dust and a faint memory of a glow of what she used to be.

So lets do it now and do it loud!